


i aorta tell you how much i love you

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer to help me study for my exams?” she asks, biting her lip. “I have anatomy tomorrow, practical and written, and the human body has way too many fucking parts.”He blinks.As far as requests go this one is actually pretty tame.So he agrees, and it takes Bellamy exactly seventeen minutes and twenty-three seconds to regret his decision, just about the time he ends up shirtless on her couch.





	i aorta tell you how much i love you

**Author's Note:**

> BFF fill for the prompt: Bellamy quizzing Clarke for an anatomy test turns into hands-on studying

Bellamy just wants it on the record that the only reason he stopped at Clarke’s apartment was because Raven calls him from halfway around the world and threatens him.

“Why me?” he whines. There’s a new NPR podcast he’s been wanting to listen to all week and he’s finally made time for that before receiving her call.

“Because you’re a fucking dad. You’ll try to make sure she eats a vegetable and not leave her with a six pack of red bull like Monty and Jasper would.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” he says, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. They both know Monty and Jasper would probably use her as some sort of human experiment to see how long a person can survive on energy drinks and no sleep.

“Her finals start this week and she’s always a huge fucking mess around this time so can you please just go over and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, like mistake disinfectant for grape juice,” she huffs, voice coming tinny through the line.

He scoffs. “Come on, I’m sure she’s not  _ that  _ hopeless,” he says, because he knows Clarke Griffin and he’s seen her chew Monty and Jasper out for using a bottle of margarita mix a month past its expiration date.

Except then Raven tells him about the incident with the hairdryer that occurred last semester and ten minutes later he’s in his car heading over to check on her.

(He stops at the Publix a couple blocks from her place to pick up some things to make turkey burgers. Because they’re quick and easy, not because they’re Clarke’s favourite.)

When he gets there, he lets himself in through the unlocked door and finds her sprawled out in the middle of the living room surrounded by textbooks and stacks of heavily highlighted notes. She’s wearing a pair of terrycloth running shorts and an oversized t-shirt with her hair up in a bun and, lying on her stomach with her ankles crossed in the air like that, has far more leg exposed than he’s used to seeing.

He may or may not stare at them for a second longer than usual before he clears his throat to announce his arrival.

“You know, leaving your front door unlocked is practically begging strange men to wander into your home,” he teases and she jumps, the pencil behind her ear slipping to the ground.

She throws an irritated yet fond look his way.

“If the strange men come bearing gifts of food I honestly won’t mind,” she says, looking at the grocery bags in his hands and he grins.

“Raven called me to babysit,” he tells her, letting the door fall shut and she makes a face.

“I don’t need a babysitter, I’m a grown woman,” she says, before adding on after a beat, “But I won’t complain if you’re here to feed me. I’ve had nothing but take out and frozen quesadillas for the past week.”

“You know, when you say shit like that it really doesn’t help your whole ‘grown woman’ claim,” he says airily and she throws an eraser at him. He dodges it easily of course, and ducks his head to hide his smile.

His relationship with Clarke is… complicated, at least on his end.

He didn’t like her when Raven first introduced her to the group. He thought she was just another stuck up rich kid slumming it with the broke kids until her next trip to the Alps or some shit. Except then she proved him wrong and his initial dislike gradually turned into him actually liking her company.

A lot. 

Maybe a bit too much.

(He still doesn’t have a crush on her though.)

A crush would entail noticing small details like the way she bites her lip when deep in thought or how one side of her mouth goes higher than the next when she’s flashing a real, genuine smile.

… which he certainly does  _ not _ .

He drops the bags on her counter a bit harder than he intended to and she startles again.

“How’s the studying going?” he asks as he grabs a colander to rinse the meat.

He can hear her groan loudly from the next room over and it makes him smile.

“It makes me want to kill myself but at least I’ll know exactly which artery to cut.”

He snorts. “Sounds like it’s going well,” he calls back to her and he can just see her hand peek out from behind the wall to flip him off.

He leaves her alone after that, focusing on seasoning the ground turkey and popping the fries in the oven to bake while she studies.

Clarke wanders in about half an hour later, when he’s just finishing up the burgers and perches on the counter while he works on assembling them. Extra pickles and dressing on hers and the works on his. She swings her legs back and forth while she munches on the fries, feet causing the cupboard door beneath her to rattle and shake.

“Do you think you can make me a milkshake too?” she asks when Bellamy hands over her plate. “We have some chocolate ice cream in the freezer and I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten since like,” she glances at the little clock above the stove, “2am when I had Thai leftovers.”

He may have gotten a mild heart attack when she confesses to having not eaten in almost sixteen hours. It’s fine though. He’s fine.

Clarke knows he has a complex about feeding people and she uses that to her advantage because it just takes a bit more cajoling on her part to get him to give in and pull the ice cream out of the freezer.

She doesn’t have a blender so he just warms it up a little in the microwave and then stirs in some milk. It’s a little bit chunky but he hides any visible imperfections by spraying a healthy amount of whipped cream on top.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he grumbles when he slides it over to her in the living room. She’s almost done eating while his meal remains untouched and Clarke beams at him.

“You’re the best,” she nods and then surprises him by giving him a quick peck on his cheek that turns his whole world upside down.

It’s a quick thing that doesn’t last more than a split second, but it still doubles his heart rate and he’s sure if someone were to look closely they would notice a splash of colour on his cheeks.

He gets halfway through his burger before he hears her slurping the last bits of the shake and then she’s nudging him with a sock-clad toe looking faintly embarrassed.

“So I was wondering,” she begins in a sing-song voice and he heaves a sigh.

Clarke doesn’t do it often, but when she takes that tone it means she wants something from you and she won’t stop until you agree.

It’s how she strong armed him into helping on many a camping trip even when they both know she hates the outdoors.

“Go on,” he sighs, “Out with it.”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer to help me study for my exams?” she asks, biting her lip. “I have anatomy tomorrow, practical and written, and the human body has way too many fucking parts.”

He blinks.

As far as requests go this one is actually pretty tame.

So he agrees and she beams so widely that his world is thrown off kilter once more.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes Bellamy exactly seventeen minutes and twenty-three seconds to regret his decision, just about the time he ends up shirtless on her couch.

She had started off small at first, after he cleared their plates and washed his hands, by taking his hand and naming all the bones of the wrist, the nerves that run through his palm and the blood vessels that accompany them. She had given him her flashcards to check but he probably spent more time cataloguing the way her brows furrowed and nose scrunched when she had trouble remembering the name of something.

She flies through the anatomy of the upper limb and then goes on to the head where she prods and probes at his scalp, fingers tangled in his hair as she traces imaginary lines where the pterion should be located. It’s all he can do to not let his eyes flutter shut and lean into her touch like a cat.

That’s where things start to get difficult.

After she’s done listing blood vessels of the head- she has so many mnemonics to remember that  _ he  _ feels like he needs a mnemonic just to remember all of them- her hands float down to his neck and he grits his teeth in hopes that she doesn’t notice how fast his heart is beating.

“Everything okay?” she asks when she feels the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, and he nods before she goes back to listing the muscles of the neck, rattling them off so fast that he barely has time to keep up with her notes.

When she gets to his chest, that’s when he begins to regret this.

“Take it off,” she says, casual as ever and he chokes on his tongue.

“ _ What? _ ”

She tugs on the hem of his t-shirt. “Take it off,” she repeats. “I need to do surface anatomy too.” She hands him a flashcard.

“Can’t you do that with my shirt on?”

She levels a glare at him.

“No I can’t do it with your clothes on because they’re not gonna have the cadavers clothed.”

“Why do you even need to know surface anatomy?” he grumbles as he crosses his arms.

“Because they could pin something and ask ‘what organ lies deep to this landmark’ and I wouldn’t know!” she says before looking up at him, eyes big and blue and impossibly round. “Please? For me?”

His resolve crumbles instantly and he sighs, grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

And that’s how he ends up on Clarke Griffin’s couch half naked while she prods and pokes him while muttering about heart sounds and intercostal spaces.

He feels dizzy, though whether it be from the medical terminology or her hands on his skin, he’s not sure.

The couch is short but deep so even though his feet dangle off the sides, there’s still more than enough room on the edge of the cushions for her to perch.

Bellamy tries to reign in his feelings, really he does, but it’s terribly hard to do so when the girl he maybe-kinda-sorta likes is out here touching him like  _ that _ .

(Okay so  _ maybe  _ he has a tiny crush on Clarke Griffin so sue him.)

At least Clarke is keeping it mostly professional while he’s out here trying not to gasp and squirm every time her fingers graze against a particularly sensitive spot.

When she gets to his legs- after delicately skimming across his hips- she pauses and says, “Do you ever think about how stupidly vulnerable the human body is?”

He looks up at her. “Um, no?”

She huffs. “I mean just look at how fragile we are. Bones can break so easily and don’t get me started on arteries like one good stab to your thigh and boom, you can bleed out in a couple minutes.”

Her hand lands on his upper thigh and she says something about a femoral triangle except he’s not listening because  _ her hand is on his upper thigh _ and if she keeps it there for much longer, well.

Bellamy’s just glad that his jeans are tight enough to help hid the growing situation in his pants at the moment.

“Clarke,” he interrupts her while she’s talking about god knows what as she runs her hand from his hip to knee, “Stop.”

He covers her hand with his and she looks up at him, unimpressed. “Why?”

It’s not like he didn’t expect her to ask him that, but it still somehow takes him by surprise. He takes a moment to wet his mouth before drawing her closer, so that she’s hovering above him.

“Because if you don’t I’ll end up doing something very stupid,” he says slowly, running his thumb across the bones in her wrist. He can barely remember the names of them that she had rattled off at the start of the night.

“Like what?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

Even here, under the harsh fluorescent lights with no more than a couple hours of sleep and greasy hair, she still manages to look like the most beautiful person in the world to him. 

He holds her gaze steady as he says, “Like kissing you.”

He doesn’t look away as he says it, and watches as she blinks once, not exactly surprised but still not expecting it. She tilts her head to the side and looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

“ _ Obicularis oris _ ,” she says, eyes darting down to his mouth, “That’s the muscle that controls the lips.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “That’s all you have to say? It’s another learning experience?”

“Everything can be a learning experience if you try hard enough,” she declares, nose brushing against his.

As far as first kisses go, this is probably one of his favourites.

Clarke’s mouth is soft under his, and warm, and she lets him pull her onto his lap as they kiss slow and long and deep. Her hand cups his jaw, thumb rubbing small, light circles into the hinge of it and his thumbs dip beneath the elastic band of her shorts to press against her hips.

It’s not how he pictured it- him half dressed on her couch with anatomy flashcards strewn all over the place- but it’s still perfect nonetheless.

Their foreheads knock against each other’s when they pull apart and she giggles, dropping her head into the crook of his neck.

“Any chance I could convince you to take a study break?” he asks, voice rumbling between them. She has a hand on his chest, rubbing against his sternum, and he feels it when she laughs. 

Clarke snuggles deeper into him, pressing a kiss to his clavicle and says, “I’d say your odds are good.”


End file.
